To Bee Gee or Not To Bee Gee
by apartfromcoughdrops
Summary: "Now," says James, "is the winter of our disco tent." / Shakespeare, disco, and Definitely Very Serious Police Work. If you like Shakespearean disco puns and James/Lily, this is the fic for you.


"Now," says James, "is the winter of our disco tent."

On the comms, Sirius snorts.

Lily turns and levels a flat glare at her boyfriend. "Really. You're a comedian now." She waves a hand at him as he begins to answer. "No, Jesus, that wasn't an _invitation_. Let's hurry this up, we might be able to make it to dinner before they close if we're done soon."

All she'd wanted, after her eight-hour shift (half of which, she might add, was spent canvassing houses in the freezing rain), was to go home, put on a nice dress, and go out to dinner with her boyfriend to celebrate their anniversary, and then go home again and probably have sex, let's be honest, before going to bed. James had been extraordinarily sweet about the whole thing, too; he'd arranged to take her out to the pizza place they'd had their first date, four years ago when they were both starving students, and he'd got her earrings that were actually _nice_ and - she'd been looking forward to it all day, to be honest. But this is her life, and quite frankly, she should have foreseen Detective Inspector Moody calling them back in after not even twenty minutes to go undercover at a goddamn _teenage disco_ because their target is there. The art thief they've been tracking for six months who has thus far been unable to stay put in perfectly reasonable places like parties and shopping centres and country clubs long enough for them to nab him but is, for some reason, willing to hang around for more than an hour at his fifteen year old daughter's _outdoor party in the middle of December_ despite the mind-numbing Sixties music.

And because there is a deity in the sky who hates her, she and James have been deemed the only two people in the entire precinct who can get away with showing up at a teenager's party - whether that's flattering or insulting, she's not sure, considering they're 22 - and had to go on a frantic hunt for trashy glitter clothes before traipsing out to a fucking field in the middle of Surrey where there is, in fact, a large canvas marquee - through the doors of which flashing coloured lights and a disco ball are visible - that could conceivably be called a disco tent.

"Ah, well, Evans," says James, far too cheerfully. "Chin up, at least we've got Burke practically in the bag. And it's disco! You know what I say, if that funky music be the food of love, play on."

She steps on his foot.

"That _hurt_, have you forgotten the platform shoes?"

"Four inches of _do not start with me, James Potter_, the puns are going away for the day or you will probably lose a toe."

"Though she be but little, she is fierce!" he says grinning maniacally. Lily regrets _everything_.

"Can you two lovebirds get on with it, already? The more time you spend on your weird Shakespearean foreplay, the more time we all spend stuck here in the middle of bloody nowhere." Mary's voice comes annoyed over the comms and Lily realises abruptly that Mary and Sirius, both waiting as backup in a car outside, can hear everything they're saying.

"Bugger off, Mary, you wish you had skills like mine," returns James easily.

"How have I been going out with you for _four years_?" asks Lily rhetorically. She passes a hand over her eyes, doing her best not to dislodge the fake eyelashes that were apparently necessary. Then, head lowered and shoulders square, she grabs James' hand and walks in, doing her best not to think _once more unto the breach_.

Luckily, it's the kind of teenage party where nobody really knows anyone else and nobody wants to ask, just in case they lose Cool Points or whatever the kids are calling it these days, and in any case most of Hannah Burke's friends are too busy grinding on the floor to Gloria Gaynor ('How can they think disco is back, disco is _not back_, it's becoming clearer and clearer that disco was _never actually here_ - ' 'You just do not appreciate the marvel and wonder that is the Village People, Evans. I don't know if I can forgive you for that') to notice that Lily and James aren't exactly doing their GCSEs anymore. On the other hand, this does lead to some awkward moments.

"I feel like a pervert," grumbles Lily surreptitiously into her concealed microphone after fending off a third drunk teenage boy. "And _they're_ perverts as well for not leaving me the hell alone. Perversion all around, folks."

"Do you want me to come and find you? I can glare at them." James' voice is slightly tinny on the comms, the music reverberating doubly between them. After about two minutes, they decided they would never find Burke unless they split up and looked for him. That was possibly a bad decision, if only for the fact that the disco music is now twofold in her head.

"No, I can glare fine for myself. They should learn right goddamn now that when a girl says no, she _means it_."

"Kick them in the balls," suggests Mary. "Also, we're all ready out here to transport Burke."

"That's fine, but we've got to _find_ the bugger first. You'd think it would be easier for trained police to spot a middle-aged man at a teenage party."

"What if he's on the dance floor? We'd - that would open the investigation to more than art theft, if you ask me." James sounds slightly horrified at the thought.

"Burke? Not bloody likely. Remember Kelley's account? He said that Burke'd made him wear a suit _every day_ when they were planning the Caravaggio job. And the ex-wife said he made her listen to Radio 4 on every car journey, I don't think he's the sort to get down and dirty to ABBA. Speaking of ABBA, if they repeat _Love Isn't Easy _one more time, I am going to _kill something_."

"Well. The course of true _Love Train_ never did run smooth, you know."

She scowls, regretting the fact that she didn't _immediately run away_ upon discovering that the scruffy-looking kid she met all those years ago was an English student. "That isn't even ABBA, idiot, that's the O'Jays."

There's a silence.

"What? My sister had a phase. Shut up."

"I never said anything." She can _hear_ his bloody grin. "Your sister had a phase, eh? Petunia. She was the one who liked disco music. Definitely not you."

"I have _never liked disco music in my entire life_."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Oh, for - wait, I think that's him, talking to the DJ. James."

He instantly focuses, dropping the teasing tone. "Yes, I see him. Plan of action?"

"Wait for him to stop talking, come at him from opposite sides, escort him discreetly off the premises. Remember, we want this to be a low-key, in-and-out job. Don't know about you, but I don't exactly relish the prospect of two hundred drunk teenagers freaking out in a tent while the birthday girl's dad is arrested."

"My thoughts exactly. I'll meet you by the food table, we can keep an eye on him."

It takes her a couple of minutes to work her way there, and when she does, she can't help but think sadly back to the apple she'd had at lunch time and the leftover pizza from yesterday's takeaway at home, wondering whether she can sneak an hors d'oeuvre (who even _has_ hors d'oeuvres at a goddamn _disco_) in the name of Keeping Undercover.

"Thinking back on your salad days, Evans?" James appears suddenly behind her, making her jump. He laughs, and leans down to kiss her on the cheek. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Not worth much." She pauses, eyes on the Burke's daughter dancing blithely in the middle of the room. "Do you think it's a bit of a dick move, arresting her dad on her birthday?"

"A bit. But to be honest, I think she's well shot of him, and she'll know it."

"Hope so." She sighs, looking back at Burke. "They're still talking, what are they even talking _about_, the meaning of life?"

"Discussing what sort of music to play."

There's a sinking feeling in her gut. "Don't say it. Don't fucking say it, Potter."

"'To Bee Gee or not to Bee Gee?' wonders the DJ," says James, voice brimming with barely concealed glee. "'Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the Supremes and ABBAs of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of T-Connections.'"

"You think you're so funny, don't you," says Lily above the sound of Sirius cackling.

"Punny, Evans. I'm _punny_."

Rolling her eyes, she turns away and waits for him to stop laughing, fighting off a smile despite herself. It drops, though, as she takes a glance at her watch. When she turns back, James is watching her. "You alright?"

She shrugs. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend our anniversary."

"It's alright, Lily." He grabs her hand, and squeezes it.

"You were even more excited than I was, how are you so happy?"

"Still get to spend the night with you, don't I?"

Rather than making the conscious decision to smile, she feels it spread across her face, and she turns to kiss him, making it linger. When they break apart, his eyes are warm, and despite the entire misery of this evening, despite the fact that they are _once again_ playing _Stayin' Alive_ and two hundred inebriated teenagers are singing along tunelessly behind them, she's happy. "Love you."

"Love you t - oh, hell, is he looking at us?"

This, of course, is when everything falls apart.

Perhaps perversely, high-speed chases always put Lily in a good mood. It's the exhilaration of it all, the same feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but with a rollercoaster you know where you're going and also there's a 100% chance you won't get fired at the end. But Mary is terrifyingly amazing at breaking all the traffic rules in the book when in pursuit of a criminal, and inevitably, they corner Burke - who immediately, after spotting James and Lily, ran out to his _Volkswagen Golf_, art thieves are not at _all_ like _The Thomas Crown Affair_ had led Lily to believe - in a dead end. She gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and blood singing through her veins, and with an immense sense of satisfaction and a shark grin on her face, she pulls him out of his terrible family car and brandishes the handcuffs.

"Edward Burke, you are under arrest. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

He scowls at her. "It's my _daughter's birthday_, couldn't you _wait_?"

"Yeah, well, it's _my_ anniversary, I'm not exactly here out of choice."

"Besides, justice waits for no-one," says James, coming up behind them with Mary and Sirius in tow. He grins at her over Burke's head. "Alright, there, Evans?"

She smiles back, suddenly feeling giddy. It's been _six months_ working on this case, and she's ready for it to be over. "Yeah. Everything's coming up roses." She pauses. "Hey, James."

"Yeah?"

"Since I couldn't exactly prove a lover with all this going on," she says, gesturing towards Burke. "At least we determined to prove the villain, yeah?"

He stares at her for a minute before bursting into laughter.

"Ready to transport him?" asks Mary.

"All good to go."

"What's wrong with Potter?"

"So many things," says Lily, but she's smiling.

As soon as they're gone, James tugs her closer, still chuckling, and puts an arm around her shoulder so she's tucked under his arm. "Let's go home," he suggests, eyes twinkling. "We'll have dinner, and then I'll prove exactly just how much of a lover I can be."

"Jesus, James. That was _awful_." She leans back, looks at him, and kisses him on the lips. "Go on, then. Let's go home."

It's probably sometime early in the morning when James says, tracing mindless patterns on Lily's arm as they lie in bed, "You know, that's not really how you_ use_ 'prove', it means something totally different in that con- "

"I wonder that you still be talking," she cuts in, swatting him on the arm. "Nobody marks you."

"What, my dear Lady Disdain?" he says, far too fondly, and Lily feels a terrible rush of warmth towards him for remembering her favourite Shakespeare. "Are you still living?"

She turns towards him so they're inches away from each other, his breath warm on her lips, and smiles. "Is it possible disdain should die when she hath such food to meet it as Signior James Potter?"

Scooting still closer, he tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear, and says, "Peace. I will stop your mouth with a kiss."

* * *

A/N: Hi, me again!

This, also, was published on my tumblr originally (again, see the link in my profile) and is pure ridiculousness, resulting from terrible late night decisions and two friends there enabling my awful punning life choices. Hope you like!

Sriya xxx


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